


The Bearded Beauty

by HowAboutThatSnapback



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Gen, Lettie Love, Male-Female Friendship, i hope i'm doing it justice, tailor's boy shines through, their relationship is amazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:47:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24884053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowAboutThatSnapback/pseuds/HowAboutThatSnapback
Summary: P.T. Barnum struggles with Lettie's costume for the show. He's determined to make it perfect because she needs to see the beauty he does.
Relationships: Caroline Barnum & Helen Barnum & P.T. Barnum, Charity Barnum/P. T. Barnum, P. T. Barnum & Lettie Lutz
Comments: 9
Kudos: 53





	The Bearded Beauty

Phineas taps the eraser on his desk repeatedly, staring at the blank paper before him in frustration. The men’s outfits had come easily to him and- after consulting Charity and the girls- majority of the women’s outfits had gone well enough after he ran them by his wife and each performer for their approval. The only one he cannot seem to get a decent outfit idea for is Lettie. He wants her to be comfortable, but to really make her stand out, to make no one deny her beauty so she can see it her herself. He refused to let her make it herself, promising he will handcraft the dress she will wear for her first performance.

There’s a quiet knock on the door and he looks up and finds Charity poking her head in a moment after. Her azure eyes are questioning and he doesn’t miss the pattern of her night gown.

“I’ll be in bed just a moment,” he promises.

She steps into the office. “Are you still agonizing over outfits?”

“Lettie’s,” he confesses. “I’ve no idea what works best for her. I want a good balance between modesty and- and… a-and _vivaciousness_.”

Charity raises an eyebrow, an amused, questioning look on her face that dares him to prove her suspicion right.

He makes a face. “No, not like that. Something that when she looks at herself in the mirror she can’t help but see what I see.”

“And what do you see?” She sits on his desk beside him, a knowing smile on her face.

“A beautiful woman beaten down by society,” he confesses, eyes closing and burning with relief. “I see a woman that if she had just a little confidence in herself would take the world by storm.”

“You see her potential,” she elaborates.

“Yes!” he hisses, eyes opening and a grin on his face at her understanding.

“That’s sweet, Phin, but don’t forget who she _is._ ” She stands and kisses his cheek. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“Of course not,” he insists with a beaming grin.

As the door closes his smile falls and he rubs his eyes to at least _attempt_ to push his exhaustion away. He wants Lettie’s dress to be perfect. He wants everyone who watches her perform to be in awe not just by her beard or her voice but by _her_. Is it so much to ask for one more stroke of inspiration? Just one more before he curls up next to his wife and drifts off?

The heavens do not shower him with a spark of anything, leaving him trudging back to the bedroom and changing into his nightclothes some ten minutes later. Charity is peacefully asleep already so he tries his best to minimize the shifting of the bed as he climbs in. She sighs quietly and turns to see the disturbance.

“It’s just me,” he assures with a smile. He moves forward so he’s flushed with her back and kisses her jaw tenderly. “Go back to sleep.”

Her fingers lace with his and she settles back into her briefly disturbed dreams. He smiles lightly to himself and rubs his calloused thumb against her silk smooth skin fondly. The life he promised her is closer than he ever imagined. He’s just a breath away, he can feel it. He’s grasped his ticket, he just needs to ride the train there.

* * *

“Daddy!”

Two small bodies barrel into him, nearly knocking the breath from his lungs. He supposes he’s still got a bit of time left for them to learn how to land so as not to hurt him, but that’s a problem for future Phineas.

He sees two of the brightest smiles on the most beautiful faces he’s laid eyes on and he feels warmth in his chest. He gathers them in his arms, not bothering to lift his shoulders more than an inch before falling back down with a laugh.

“It’s _much_ too early to be awake!” He cries, ignoring the pale dawn peeking through the blinds.

“No it’s not,” Helen giggles.

“Mommy’s finished breakfast,” Caroline informs, wiggling in his arms.

“Well, if that’s the case,” he faux ponders, “then I suppose I can get up. I just need the help of two big, strong girls.”

They each take a hand, standing on the bed and pull. He eases most of his weight off of them and sits up with a loud, unnecessary groan.

“Thank you girls,” he says, kissing each of their cheeks. “Now go help mommy set the table while I get dressed.”

They scamper off and leave him to prepare for his day. He freshens up, shaves, and dresses in twenty minutes and he’s exiting the room into the kitchen-dining room area as he finishes on his tie.

"Good morning sleeping beauty," Charity teases as she doles out the breakfast.

He kisses his temple on his way to his seat. "Good morning my love."

"Any luck on Lettie's costume?"

He gives a deep sigh.

Charity gives him a sympathetic look. "I'll take that as a no."

"I've got nothing. I've looked through magazines, sketched out so much and there's nothing. I don't know what to do for her," Phineas admits. He takes a sip of coffee and fights not to run his fingers through his just done hair. "I'm starting to think I'll have to _settle_ for something."

"Since when have you ever settled?" Charity asks, baffled by his confession.

"Maybe ask Lettie what she likes," Caroline suggests.

"And her favorite color too!" Helen pipes up.

He grins at the girls. "I'll have to do that. Thanks girls."

"You're welcome!" They say just off sync.

The rest of breakfast is easy, chatting and talking until it was time for Phineas to make his way to the museum to work with the performers.

When Phineas isn't going over routines and setting everything up for all the acts, he's carefully creating the outfits of those who couldn't make their own for whatever reason. The steady, practiced movements were exactly the same as his father had taught him. There was a reason- despite popular belief- Phineas was the one repairing all of the clothes he and his family had torn. Charity was taught well, but he has the quick efficiency of an experienced tailor due to decades of practice. With his wife's input he created dresses for their daughters that looked better than what they could afford.

It isn't until about ten minutes after most of the performers had gone home that he leaves his office with colors, fabrics and designs swirling behind his eyes. If he never has to make another corset it'd be too soon.

"Mr. Barnum?"

He looks up and finds Lettie, Selene, Samantha and Ruth standing in a group near the exit with their coats thrown on.

"Ladies, what are you still doing here?"

"We lost track of time," Ruth admits with a sheepish smile.

"Would you mind walking us home?" Selene and Samantha ask simultaneously.

Ever the gentleman he replies, "Of course."

He opens the door for them and follows after. He walks beside Lettie as Ruth and the twins talk in front of them, keeping an eye out for any unsavory characters. He smiles and laughs in all the right places, keeping an ear on the conversation and enjoying himself. He's grown fond of each performer outside of a business perspective. Each have their own quirks and every time they go out to drink they have a grand time. No practice is every short on laughter which makes starting this risky business more bearable.

As they stop to admire dresses in the window of a shop that's closed he notices Lettie staring at a particular one with a lower cut bodice and sweeping skirts. The sad glint in her eyes is one he's familiar with. The same look Charity or his girls have when they look at something with desire and know they cannot have it. Lettie's expression speaks of a wish to be able to wear something of the sort, but not believing she can pull it off.

He suddenly remembers his girls' advice and asks before has the chance to think, "What's your favorite color?"

Lettie looks at him, startled. "What?"

"Your favorite color," he presses forward with the knowledge he won't be able to take it back. "What is it?"

She eyes him for a few moments as if trying to figure out his motive and soon decides to give up with a light shake of her head. "Purple. My favorite color is purple."

His mind works a hundred miles an hour as he nods.

"What's yours?"

He's caught off guard by the question, but he doesn't miss a beat when he answers, "Red."

She nods to herself and they all turn to continue on their way. He bids goodbye to each lady as they go into the building and then makes his way home, excited to get to work on Lettie's dress.

...

Phineas walks into the house and goes straight to his desk. He has to get the dress sketched out before the vision leaves his head. He hears feet pounding against the roof and knows his girls are playing up there under the watchful eye of his wife. He won’t have to worry about being interrupted or for their safety for the time being. It’s just as well because he doesn’t think he’ll be able to hold the image in his head after a conversation with his very talkative daughters.

As he finishes he hears the curtains close and he looks up at his wife who has an amused smile on her face.

“The girls told me to tell you goodnight.”

He has an amused, questioning downward tilt to the corners of his lips. “When did you come down?”

“About ten minutes ago,” she answers. “You were so into your work, I sent the girls to bed.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, taking her outstretched hand and gently pulling her to sit in his lap. “I’d like you to take a look at Lettie’s dress.”

Charity looks down at the sketch and her eyebrows raise minutely, surprised at seeing this come from her husband. He feels anticipation hammering in his chest as her azure eyes trace the lines and curves of each pencil stroke. She is- after all- the main expert on women’s dresses and he trusts her council.

“What do you think?” he asks through a tight chest.

Her lips curl up into a genuine smile. “It looks lovely. The only thing you need to do is choose colors.”

“Purple and black,” he says immediately. “The real question is what _shade_ of purple. I’ll have to take come cloths and try and match one to her skin…I’ll also need her approval, she _will_ be the one wearing it in the end.”

She brushes his hair from his forehead and caresses his cheek. “You can do all of that in the morning. For now, put something on your stomach and go to bed.”

“Constantine fed me,” he assures.

The tattooed man had brought him some porridge that Olivia brought in after three nights in a row of late practice. He was grateful and scarfed the whole thing down before going back to work sewing Charles’ jacket.

Charity smiles. “Good. Come to bed.”

He places a piece of paper over the sketch and makes his way to the bedroom hand in hand with his love.

* * *

Phineas is excited and full of seemingly boundless energy from the moment he wakes up. The sudden inspiration for Lettie's dress from the night before is enough to fuel him throughout the first half of practice. He works with Anne, Selene and Samantha, Constantine and Elizabeth to get a good choreography as they were the first ones to pick up on his half-coherent instructions.

At last break comes Phineas runs to his office and grabs various purple cloths and immediately searches for Anne. He finds her off to the side with her brother.

"Ms. Wheeler!" He calls as he hustles over.

“Mr. Barnum, what are you doing?” Anne asks as she eyes the bundles of varying shades of purple cloth in his arms.

She shares a confused look with her brother as he sets them on the stands to the side and turns to her with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“I’ve finally been inspired for Lettie’s dress, but I don’t want to overwhelm her with too many options,” he starts, hands clasped before his chest. “Your complexion is closest to hers and I want to narrow down to five options before I give it to her.”

W.D. gives her an amused shake of his head. “I’ll go see if George needs any help.”

 _Traitor,_ she mouths to him.

When she turns back to Mr. Barnum his whiskey doe eyes are the end of her resolve. “Alright.”

He beams in excitement. “Perfect! Thank you, Anne!”

Thirty swatches and plenty of questions of her opinion later, they’ve narrowed down to five shades of purple of varying richness and tones. In his excitement he thanks her and places a kiss to her cheek and darts away, not noticing the stiffness in her demeanor. He’s too excited to notice in order to address it. Soon he’s throwing all but five fabrics into his office haphazardly and running to Lettie.

“Ms. Lutz!” he calls, earning her attention from where she sips a glass of water in what looks to be a pleasant conversation with Constantine. “Might I have a moment of your time? I promise I will leave you to your lunch after.”

Lettie gives a confused look to Constantine who looks too amused with what is to come. “Uh… sure, Mr. Barnum.”

“No need to be so formal,” he assures for the tenth time since they’ve met. Instead of lingering like he would, he puts each swatch up to see how to goes with her skin and it’s between two. “Alright, which color do you like better?”

Lettie looks between then, seemingly lost before her eyes lock onto the one in his left hand. “That one.”

The munsell purple is perfect, he decides. He kisses her cheek in thanks and rushes to his office to get straight to work.

* * *

It takes a week of tireless work. Each stitch caresses the satin fabric seams in a secure grip, every sheer ruffle attached with admiration, and every inch a labor of love. Though every performer's outfit was made to the best of his ability, this would be his greatest creation as a tailor's boy. He's determined for it to be nothing but an enhancement of the beauty that is already there.

Striking, yet simple.

He feels satisfied at last as he looks at the final result.

He carefully folds it and places it in a box to be given after practice. Or before. He doesn't know if he has it in him to wait. No, he definitely doesn't. He'll give it to her as soon as he sees her. She's the last one to receive her costume and he's kept her waiting long enough with the first performance just a few days away.

"You seem excited," Charity notes with a wry smile as he takes an apple.

"Elated," he breathes. "God, I hope she loves it."

"She will," Charity assures as she kisses his cheek. "Let me know how it goes."

He nods and kisses her forehead before rushing to the circus.

As soon as he enters he spots Lettie speaking with Constantine, a soft smile on her lips. Slowly, she's grown more comfortable with the other performers and has started making friends that she can make crude jokes with. All of them are. Reluctant as some of them were, they began to form tentative bonds that are only bound to grow deeper.

He holds the box behind him and walks over, eyes on the bearded woman. She looks up and returns his anticipating gaze with a curious one.

"Oh, he's got somethin'," Constantine says with a grin, a twinkle in his eye saying he has an idea of what that something is.

"What is it, Barnum?" Lettie asks warily.

He brings the box out in front of him with a large grin. "It's finished. Your dress."

She opens the box and looks inside to find a finely made dress. Her fingers gently revere in the satin under them. Her watery brown eyes look up at him in awe as she stands speechless.

"Go try it on," he whispers. As she walks away Phineas allows his anxious energy to surface again. "I hope she likes it..."

Constantine claps a hand on his shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts. "She'll love it."

Phineas snorts. "You haven't even seen it."

"I didn't have to."

Several minutes pass and Phineas finally breaks and knocks on the door to the dressing room.

"Are you alright in there? Should I send someone in to help?" The worry straining his voice seems to get through to her.

She cracks open the door and peers out. "If you could? I'm having trouble with the back."

He nods. "Of course." He turns on his heel and finds Selene and Samantha are closest so he walks to the albino twins. "Excuse me ladies. Would one of you be wiling to help Ms. Lutz into her costume?"

One of them- he has yet to figured out a way to determine which is which- nods. "Of course."

Several more minutes and Selene- he learned after he began to speak with Samantha- comes out with a large grin on her face. She turns back and says something quietly to Lettie, waving her out. After a moment of hesitation she holds out her hand in invitation, her smile softening into something encouraging.

Phineas holds his breath as he sees a darker hand take the paler one and suddenly he's breathless as she fully emerges.

Lettie's eyes are downcast so her long eyelashes are brushing against her cheeks. Selene- it seems- has taken it upon herself to do Lettie's hair and makeup before allowing her to show off her dress. Her cheeks are rosy, eyelids are dusted with light what looks to be purple eye shadow and her lips are painted red. Her hair is piled atop her head and curl into perfect little ringlets and her beard seems to shine with some oiled sheen. The dress fits perfectly on her. Her arms are bare, her breasts are peeking out of the top of the bodice and her skirts swish against the floor.

There are several people who call out or- in Charles' case- whistle their appreciation at the sight of her. She flushes a deeper shade of pink and shies away from the attention.

That won't do.

Phineas strides forward and takes her hand in his. "You're absolutely gorgeous, Ms. Lutz."

She looks up at him and scowls lightly.

"Have you not looked in a mirror?" He asks in astonishment.

"I have," she snaps, embarrassment making her voice waver.

He shakes his head. "No, I mean in the dress. Have you seen yourself?"

She wavers and he knows she hasn't.

"Come on, we need to get you in front of a mirror," he says fervently.

He gently pulls her behind him, trying to keep his long strides reasonable. He _needs_ her to see herself. She needs to see what all of them see. What he saw the moment he laid eyes on her. She needs this and he won't let her live in doubt a moment longer.

As soon as he catches sight of a mirror leaning against the wall near his office he beelines straight towards it. He comes to a stop in front of the mirror and guides her to stand in front of him so he can see her expression in the mirror as she finally looks at herself.

He's not disappointed.

Her lips part in awe as she stares at what must look like the reflection of a stranger to her. Her hands carefully lifts the skirts so she can turn side to side so she can look at herself at different angles unrestrained.

"It's beautiful," she whispers.

He shakes his head in exasperation. "No. _You're_ beautiful."

When she shakes her head in disbelief something deep and burning in his chest takes hold of him. How could she not see? How could she deny what is looking back at her in the mirror.

"The dress is just an accent piece," he insists fervently, bending so she has no choice to meet his eyes. " I meant what I said when I found you, Ms. Lutz. If you don't trust me, trust those who applauded your appearance."

"Everyone here is different," Lettie insists, hands wringing together in front of her. "They see me, but the audience... they'll laugh."

"They'll be awestruck!" Phineas insists.

"They'll think I'm just a well dressed freak..."

The way she looks at him with her large, soulful eyes pains him. They're begging for all his praises to be true. She wants unconditional acceptance and love for who she is. She's desperate to be assured.

He can see it now. Lettie combing her beard without self-consciousness and strutting out confidently as she takes the stage and commands the audience with her powerful singing. All he wants for her is to be happy and have self-love... _self-worth_. He's going to do his damned best to ensure she never questions herself again no matter how long it takes.

"Lettie," he tries, tongue awkward around the word as he's never used her first name before, "when I saw you walk out in that dress I was breathless. You're captivating and inspiring... breathtaking."

Her eyes water at his sincerity and she gives him a soft, wavering smile. "You've got a silver-tongue on you."

"Made specifically to accompany your golden voice," he assures, eyes crinkling as he smiles. "You believe me, don't you?"

"You make it hard not to," she confesses, wiping at her eyes with her fingers until he gives her his handkerchief.

"I'll never lie to you," he promises and then a sly twinkle sparks in his eyes. "I'll let you know _if_ you look like crap."

She snorts and slaps his chest. "Barnum!"

He laughs along with her, content settling in his chest with a warmth he can only describe as love. When did he grow to care for her so much? When did she shift from a performer to a friend? He can't place when, but he can see in her eyes that she's coming to see him as one too and it delights him.

She pulls him forward into a hug, her strong arms wrapping around his shoulders. "Thank you, Barnum."

He hugs her back with fierce gentleness. "Any time, Ms. Lutz."

"Just call me Lettie," she sighs with exasperation as she pulls away.

He grins at the beginnings of a powerful woman who takes no crap from anyone and corrects himself, "Lettie."


End file.
